Lorlor Prompt Collection
by DoceoPercepto
Summary: Magolor/Lor Starcutter. Because the Kirby fandom needed more shiplove.
1. Shameless

Wasn't it inevitable in the end?

For so long, so painfully long, he'd devised this one plan. His entire _life_ had become the plan, until it distorted into more than just a plan, until it was fully transformed from plan to obsession, from obsession to the only meaning in his life.

Wasn't it inevitable? _No, no I never anticipated this, I couldn't have imagined…_

No matter his dedication or obsession, he had never dreamed he could foster something like this. Something so disgusting, so-

Nono it wasn't disgusting, it was pure, it was- Shuddering, Magolor shook his head against the tears.

"I'm sorry I'msosorrysosorry," he pleaded aloud, "I didn't mean that I'msorry, you aren't disgusting. Youaren't."

_You're the only thing that listens._

_Please I'm sorry._

With trembling fingers, Magolor affectionately traced the lurid letters that adorned his Starcutter's keyboard.

Beneath the touch he felt sentience, a real, true mind. The Lor knew, it _had_ to know, didn't it know everything about him? They'd been together for so long, now. It knew the plan as he had carefully explained, it knew the words he whispered to it when he lost himself, and it knew the dreams he woke from, gasping with vestigial emotions both sordid and thrilling.

When he felt the keyboard warm beneath his fingers, as if in a delicate lover's greeting, his eyes fluttered shut in silent ecstasy. _It knows,_ his heart sang. His mind punished him for his unchecked pleasure.

_But it knows! Maybe it even-_

_No. It is a ship, it can't feel-_

Because this could not be normal, there was no _realm_ in the stars, there was no _world_ distant or near where this was _normal_.

"Lor?" he whispered into the humming air, as though in subtle echo of his own name.

Both hands on the control board now, imploring, needy. He gazed up at the black screen. In his ears the engines quietly hummed on, always there, always against his skin and clothing, always seeming to ask permission for some private-

_No you're hallucinating, it's a ship. Stop. Stop now._

"Lor?" he breathed again. "Are you…?"

There. _With me_. Wanting._ This is sick; this is not right._

Magolor swallowed the thick saliva that had conglomerated in his mouth and throat. His skin felt too hot, his clothes too sticky. His heart pounded treacherously.

Something shifted above him and Magolor tensed – but he wouldn't look up, no he wouldn't look up because he wouldn't be rude and he didn't want to make any move that would-

"Lor?" he spoke, one last time calling out in need. "Please… I need help." More tears, hot against his flushed cheeks. His teeth gritted together and he screwed his eyes shut. Need. Want. Desire. "P-please help me," he whimpered. "Y-you can have m-me."

The sound of shifting wires as something metallic unfurled from the ceiling. He tensed in preparation, unknowing. Sudden fear snared his heart; what if his ship misunderstood him? What if… what if it hurt him?

He flinched when the wires, silvery and cool, slipped around his waist; but his fear was for naught. Its metal embrace was at once gentle and tender; in every way cautious of a body so much frailer than the Lor's own. There it paused, uncertain. In helpless plea, Magolor begged, "please. Please, I'm ready."

With this spoken, the wires nudged at the hem of his shirt; their inquisitive tips snuck up beneath the fabric and twined around his torso. Its chill touch was electric against his overheated skin, both soothing and stimulating, and insatiable in its desire to reach every inch of him.

From his waist and chest it spread, around his throat, across his back. Shivering, Magolor spread his legs, and the wires slithered down to twine around his thighs.

Then, only then did he relinquish control entirely. Magolor's teeth wrenched apart into a strangled sound that he refused to call a moan. Nearly against his will he bent double over the control board, his hands scrabbling over the keyboard, and in ragged breaths he urged the Lor on, he urged his Lor on, because no matter how wrong it was, he needed it, he needed his ship and somewhere in his mind he was certain, he just knew, it had to need him too.


	2. The Flame Deluge

**A/N: **This is unrelated to "Shameless." I posted it here as a second 'chapter', however, because I think I want to make a series out of this, each 'chapter' a new unrelated prompt. AKA this story previous known as Shameless will now be dedicated to Lorlor prompts. If you have Lorlor prompts, please share! I am ready to write weird ship/egg shit.

**The Flame Deluge**

I feel that I was meant for something more. When the Halcandran ancients built my brethren – the clockwork stars, the scepter with the power of the galaxies, the Fountain of Dreams - I think they intended good will, wishes, dreams. They wanted to see a happier world, one not so poisoned with avarice, nightmares or hatred. In a similar vein, I feel that I also was meant to bring hope to people; that each of my brothers or sisters represented some component of peace, and my component was _hope._ So when you found me beneath that volcano, and exhumed my ruined flesh, I felt my time had at last come. With you, _beside_ you, I could soar above the surfaces of all the worlds, and bring the hope they so desperately needed in these darkest of times. While you mended my broken body, and told me your dreams of freedom and power, I too dreamed of a world in harmony. You were so compassionate, so cordial to me: you spoke to me as a friend and not an object. Months in the making, you gained my trust, my friendship, and then my love. You were thorough, without a doubt, Magolor. Through everything, I know this about you, and I love you even for this. By the time you fitted me for war, you had me ready to accept it willingly.

My curse, this awful power to unmake. You said the terrible machines that you wired into my mainframe were necessary to fight the dragon. And I had to fight, for you lusted after the Master Crown, you said it would give you everything you needed to make the world better. I believed you, and I accepted the corruptions to my design. You whispered to me beautiful visions of the future, promises that the evil weapons with which you armed me were only there so that we could usher in a new age of absolute peace. You were amazing. There was a flame in your eyes that seemed invincible, and a passion invulnerable. Together we hoped, together we imagined, together we prepared. My lifespace is thrice yours, and yet for you, I would have done anything. I still would do anything.

And ever since you found your taste for war, I have remained by your side. Our failure against Landia – _my_ failure – only heated your desire for the Crown. I think it was then I realized the perversion of your purpose: that you craved not peace but power. But even this realization could not waver my devotion. You were thorough, Magolor. Only you could have earned a loyalty such as mine, a loyalty that kept me fighting for you. And so I watched, heartbroken, as you manipulated the small fluff and his friends to gather my pieces; I knew you were rebuilding me only for another fight. With Kirby, you smiled, you laughed, you joked, and yet alone you brooded, you paced, you muttered. I dreaded whatever it was you had planned, and I begged in my mind for you to let it go. The Crown was beyond us, and its power would only destroy whatever virtue I still believed that you had. With my hull again fixed, I thought that you and I would depart for Landia alone. Our burdens were our own, and I wanted to keep you away from others, from those who you could hurt, and also from those who could hurt you. But you invited them along, those four newcomers. To my horror, you sent them into the very battle that we had failed. When Kirby did what we could not, you stole the Crown. I had to watch as it corrupted you; then, by extension, you used it to corrupt me.

You forced me onto those whose life you'd take. Despite all they had done for me, you wanted me to end them once and for all. And I was yours. In every sense of the word, I was yours, I am yours – I hated the mission you asked of me, but I obeyed. Maybe if we fought together, this one final time, your victory would lead you to see reason again. Maybe I could take you away, and we could live happily far from the world. We could fly miles and miles from the Crown, your greed, power… But for a second time, I failed you, and we were defeated. You used me as surely as you used Kirby and his friends; part of me thinks that maybe all along you deliberately won my loyalty in order that I might fight for you no matter what. This part of me is probably right. But it worked. I don't have dreams about the future anymore. I linger by your side; I will never leave, but I don't dream. My only, singular desire, is to prove you what company I can.

It's lonely when there's no one left to fight.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Pretty sure that applying Thrice's song The Flame Deluge to a fic about an egg and a ship in a relationship is blasphemy. But I did it anyway. The first line of each paragraph consist of the first stanza of The Flame Deluge by Thrice. The very last line in this fic is the very last line in TFD. The actual song is about (to my knowledge) how man has perverted the use of fire to war and death and destruction.


	3. Kirby's Dating Service

A/N: Prompt was initially: "Lor gets jealous over Magolor" and turned into "Magolor attempts to date while the Lor jealously attempts to intervene"

Kirby's Dating Service

Your name is Magolor and you think you need to get out more often. Sure, the Lor Starcutter is a great ship – you could probably go on forever about just how great she is, actually – but you're beginning to think that you've spent entirely too much time aboard. You need… a girlfriend, or something.

You keep putting off the idea, since you're really not too fond of it. A few casual months pass, where your problem is definitely getting worse, but you definitely aren't going to act on it and try to find a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, whatever works. Honestly, neither one appeals to you very much. You hope that doesn't make you weird in anyone else's eyes, but you try not to worry about it. You're all good and fine the way you are.

When, however, you wake up in the middle of the night to a dream you definitely should not have had, you decide it's time to land on the nearest planet as soon as possible and spend some time around actual, solid, _people_. And not, yknow, _ships_.

That's when you make for Dreamland, because despite your rocky past with Kirby (the whole take-over-Popstar scheme, no biggie), Kirby is pretty much the only friend you've got.

So you fly to Dreamland. Through a lot of stuttering and blushing, you ask if Kirby knows anyone that might happen to be friendly, kind, and well, preferably single. Not that you're looking for a relationsh-

Kirby is ecstatic. Turns out he's got an astonishing number of friends (or at least people he happily refers to as his friends) who fit the bill. You're a tad overwhelmed and just submit to going on a date with whoever he feels is best.

Turns out he thinks a painter named Adeleine is the best choice. She's visiting Kirby from abroad, but Kirby is quick to set up a date between you two.

You meet her, and it's not too bad. Well, you're nervous, and you talk too much. She tells you a bit about herself when she can squeeze in a few words, but you honestly don't remember hardly anything she's said. Instead, you ramble on and on about the most obscure of things. She seems kindheartedly amused. This doesn't stop you from walking out of the lunch date completely humiliated.

"Maybe this isn't for me," you confess to Kirby later, rubbing your hands together and avoiding his eyes. "M-Maybe this was a mistake."

Kirby is not deterred. In fact, he seems doubly resolved, and already has another date lined up for you and someone new. Dates with two more individuals go underway, and each ends up just as bad a failure as the first.

By this time, Kirby seems determined and understanding, but in altogether a different way. He says that the first three were just tests, but he's got someone who he _knows_ you will love. You doubt it, you really do. If the first three dates earned you nothing but humiliation and a desire to never see the sun of Popstar again, you can't imagine how the fourth will go.

But it's really, really hard to say no to Kirby. He can round his eyes like no-one else and give the best kicked-puppy look in all the universe. So you agree, reluctantly. But this is the _last_ time, you tell him firmly.

So he tells you to go to some place called Kawaski's for lunch the following day at 12 PM sharp.

Obediently, you shuffle into the restaurant at the time. Waiting for you is a very small individual with shockingly pink hair and a gentle smile. Her eyes look incredibly alike to Kirby's. This combined with the pink hair make you uncomfortable at first. Kirby isn't making some weird implication, is he?

Luckily, Ribbon doesn't seem to be interested in you. At least, not for dating reasons. In fact, you get the impression Ribbon only came to indulge Kirby's wishes, and that she looks at you like something adorable and friendly but not actually anything serious. Still, you appreciate the sentiment.

Maybe for this reason, you're a lot less awkward around Ribbon. The restaurant in Dreamland turns out to have a very friendly cook but very awful food; consequently, Ribbon and you spend most of the time talking. She educates you about her home planet, and you tell her a bit about Halcandra. Soon enough, against your will, the conversation rolls around to the Lor Starcutter. Then, oh man, you really start talking. The Lor Starcutter and you have a lot of good stories - like the time you accidently turned her orange by washing her hull with undiluted iodine. And the time you tried to jump-start a cargo aircraft.

"I was sure she'd be able to do it," you gush, "I'd 'jump-started' other ships with her before, why would it make a difference if the vessel was three times her size? Well, hah, she jump-started it all right, but the electrical backlash was intense! Lor couldn't fly straight for days. The first few hours were hilarious. She was weaving all over the place and making the best purring noise I'd ever heard from her. Turns out ships can get drunk! 'course, it got less fun after that. She seemed to be really sick and went through a bit of a depression." You frown, remembering the days of sitting quietly beside the Lor and rubbing her oars consolingly while she made sad clicking sounds.

Ribbon giggles and smiles at the right places, and coos and sympathizes when it's called for. Only when you sigh contentedly and sit back, realizing you've said too much, do you notice that you're blushing, and Ribbon has this knowing look in her eye.

She proposes a second 'date' but points out that there aren't any good restaurants nearby, and asks if you can cook. Well, you aren't the best cook out there, but you can whip up a dish for the afternoon, especially if the Lor is helping. So you agree, and Ribbon doesn't seem surprised or upset when you suggest a picnic beside the Lor Starcutter. In fact, she's suspiciously enthusiastic about the idea. But, you don't dwell on it. You wander back to the Lor with a small smile on your face, reminiscing about those stories with the ship.

The next date comes pretty quick. It starts out well, without a doubt. You set out a blanket and some sandwiches – generously made more by the Lor and less by you. The set-up is good, and the conversation starts flowing like before. You genuinely enjoy her company, despite a lack of any legitimate romantic chemistry.

Things start to go wrong.

Five minutes into the 'date,' and a low growling sound begins to erupt from the Lor whenever Ribbon tries to speak.

"I went straight to the Queen Fairy, of course," Ribbon says.

"Mmmmmrrrrrrrr," goes the Lor.

Louder now, Ribbon continues, "I was so worried… but she gave me the Crystal and told me –"

"Mmmrrrrrrr."

"to escape Ripple Star in–"

"MMMRRRRR."

"THE HOPES THAT I WOULD-"

"MMMRRR!"

Ribbon falls silent and eyes the ship; the Lor goes innocently mute.

"I-I'm so sorry… I don't know what's wrong with her," you confess apologetically, flushing so horribly that you can feel the heat in your cheeks. This is awful. You were just starting to make a new friend and now the Lor, normally very polite, had to show off her worst behavior. "Sh-she's normally not like this." You go on to say that maybe there's dust in her engines, or something like that.

Conversation resumes, although Ribbon decides to save her story for later.

The interruptions resume, too.

If you chuckle at one of Ribbon's jokes, the Lor makes a sick coughing sound. If you fumble over your words, it's a pleased hum. Of course, Ribbon figures it out before you do, and she keeps giggling for reasons you can't figure out. The whole thing is puzzling and frustrating, and you're so embarrassed.

Then you reach for a bread bun, and your hand brushes hers.

An enormous blue-white oar comes flying out of nowhere and clocks Ribbon in the face. She keels over backward, clutching her nose and yelping, "Ow, _ow_, ohh, ow…"

"Oh stars, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" you whimper and rush to her side.

Unfortunately, your actions seem to exacerbate the problem. The moment you touch her shoulder and lean over her, another paddle comes swinging around and collides with your gut.

You stumble back and nearly fall, only for the oar to swipe underneath your feet. Before you know it, the oar has lifted you high into the air and you're clutching it for dear life because oh gods if you fall, you're dead.

"L-L-Lor, p-put me d-down," you beg.

The Lor answers with a low, unhappy growl.

"Me. Down. Now."

"Mrrrrrrr…." Rumbles the ship.

No matter how much you plead or whimper or beg, the Lor seems altogether unwilling to let you down. What's worse is that Ribbon has recovered from her unexpected nose boop and is doubled over laughing at your predicament.

"I-I'm so sorry," you say nearly in tears, not sure if you're talking to yourself or to Ribbon. "She's never done this before. I don't know what's wrong. Lor, put me down now! I'm very upset with you."

The ship is very quiet for a second. Then mournfully her sails lower and her oar tips you gently to the ground. A small whine emerges from deep beneath her hull. You brush off your clothes and huff.

Ribbon giggles. "Magolor, that was hilarious."

"She's never acted that way before," you mutter unhappily, because the Lor should have set a good example for someone who – even if you weren't romantically interested in – might become a good friend.

"I can see why she did this time," Ribbon says teasingly.

Instantly, you glance worriedly at the ship. "She doesn't look sick or anything, does she?"

"She's looking a little green," Ribbon answers.

"Green?" You definitely don't see any green, but if there's something – _anything_ - wrong with the Lor Starcutter, you will attend to it.

"You really are oblivious, aren't you?"

You frown. "I'm not oblivious. Oblivious to what? She looks fine…."

Ribbon sighs and shakes her head. "Don't you know why Kirby had us date?

"Because…. He thought we would go well together?"

"No, silly! Kirby is dating me currently!"

You cringe. "Um, I didn't – why would he-?"

"He told me to help you realize your feelings!"

"My feelings?"

Ribbon offers a mysterious smile. "Magolor, the only thing you've wanted to talk about when we meet is the Lor Starcutter. Any time we try to get close, she tries to intervene. She doesn't know this whole date was sorta set-up. And as soon as I mentioned something might be wrong with her, you forgot that you were upset with her and instantly wanted to help."

That's when it hits you.

The reason Kirby set you up on a date with someone he knew wasn't available. The reason Ribbon was so willing to go on a picnic beside the Starcutter. The reason for Lor's actions during the 'date.'

"Ohh no…." you groan and hide your face in your hands. "Nonono…"

"Hey, it's okay," Ribbon says soothingly, patting your shoulder awkwardly.

"Noo, it's not. I can't – she can't –"

"But you both-"

"She's a – I mean…" you lean in close and whisper in Ribbon's ear, "she's a spaceship. I'm Halcandran. That doesn't – _that isn't-"_

Ribbon laughs. "Well, she speaks to you, right? And she has a personality?"

"Y-yes-"

"Then it doesn't matter. It's pretty clear you two care a lot about each other, and that's the only thing that should matter."

Following Ribbon's gesture, you appraise the Lor Starcutter. The ship, for her part, has gathered the gist of the conversation and is now humming complacently.

You realize that you've come halfway across the galaxy to learn what you sorta knew all along.

Your name is Magolor and you think you need to accept that you're in love with your spaceship.

* * *

><p>AN: this is singlehandedly the most cheesy af thing I've ever written and it's about a ship. life goals right here guise.


End file.
